I can be grateful for that. Maybe he’s so spoilt by having stunners all over him that he wants a change? Who cares why? So long as it’s you he wants, it’s you, my girl, that he’s going to get!’
She was gripping the phone so hard she thought it must shatter beneath her hands.
‘You want,’ she said slowly, each word forced from her, ‘to pimp me out to a man you’re doing business with?’
Her voice seemed to come from very far away. Horror, disgust and loathing were rising like vomit in her throat. Her father—her own father—was doing this to her …
How can he be this vile—how?
But it didn’t matter how. She knew what he was—had known it all her life. Had known all her life that her father did not love her, cared absolutely nothing for her, saw her only as someone to be used … exploited.
Pimped
.
Her father was speaking again, and she forced herself to listen. His voice sounded angry now.
‘Let me spell out some home truths to you, my girl! This recession has played bloody havoc with me! Right now Ineed to keep Leon Maranz happy, any damn way he wants, because he’s all that stands between me and being totally wiped out! Got it? He’s a turnaround merchant—invests in hard-hit companies and pulls them through. Why the
hell
else do you think I’m all over the man? I wouldn’t give him the time of day if I didn’t need him! Some bloody foreigner lording it over me!’
Instinctively Flavia flinched at the offensive term.
‘And you want to pimp me out to him—’ scorn was acid in her voice ‘—just to save your skin.’
Her father gave a derisive, mocking laugh. ‘Little Miss Pure and Virtuous? Is that it? Well, you can be as bloody pure and virtuous as you like when you and your senile old bat of a grandmother are out on the streets! Because I promise you—’ his voice congealed the breath in her lungs as he spoke ‘—if you don’t play ball and make sure Leon Maranz gets everything he wants from you, I’ll rip Harford from you. It’ll be on the market this week. So what’s it to be? It’s make your mind up time.’
Slowly, very slowly, Flavia looked at the documents lying on her grandfather’s desk. Saw the zeroes blur, and then reform. Felt acid leach into her stomach, cold inch down her spine.
Slowly, very slowly, she gave him her answer.
The team of project directors seated around the table were setting out their next round of
pro bono
proposals for funding. Leon knew he should be paying more attention, but his mind was distracted. Focussed elsewhere.
It had been for days now. Focussed on the mobile phone in his jacket pocket. Whenever it rang he was aware of a distinct jolt of expectation and hope. Would it finally, this time, be Flavia Lassiter returning his calls?
But it never was.
He’d hoped that leaving London would stop him being constantly on the alert for her, but here he was on the pointof heading back east across the Atlantic and he was just as frustrated by her silence as ever. He’d tried accepting that she just didn’t want to know, tried putting her out of his mind, even tried looking out for another woman to take his mind off Flavia Lassiter.
But even the famed beauty of South American womanhood had failed to beguile him. The more he’d tried to be beguiled, the less he had been. The more he’d kept seeing Flavia in his mind’s eye, feeling her lips beneath his in his memory, the pliant softness of her body in his embrace …
It was infuriating. It was exasperating. It was unnerving.
I’m becoming obsessed …
The unwelcome notion played in his head, disturbing and disquieting. He tried to rationalise it away, reminding himself that up till now he’d never had to face female rejection—that was why he was reacting so badly to Flavia doing it. But he could rationalise it all he wanted—what he couldn’t do was expunge her from his memory or cease to want her.
They’d reached the end of the proposals, and he realised he must make
She was gripping the phone so hard she thought it must shatter beneath her hands.
‘You want,’ she said slowly, each word forced from her, ‘to pimp me out to a man you’re doing business with?’
Her voice seemed to come from very far away. Horror, disgust and loathing were rising like vomit in her throat. Her father—her own father—was doing this to her …
How can he be this vile—how?
But it didn’t matter how. She knew what he was—had known it all her life. Had known all her life that her father did not love her, cared absolutely nothing for her, saw her only as someone to be used … exploited.
Pimped
.
Her father was speaking again, and she forced herself to listen. His voice sounded angry now.
‘Let me spell out some home truths to you, my girl! This recession has played bloody havoc with me! Right now Ineed to keep Leon Maranz happy, any damn way he wants, because he’s all that stands between me and being totally wiped out! Got it? He’s a turnaround merchant—invests in hard-hit companies and pulls them through. Why the
hell
else do you think I’m all over the man? I wouldn’t give him the time of day if I didn’t need him! Some bloody foreigner lording it over me!’
Instinctively Flavia flinched at the offensive term.
‘And you want to pimp me out to him—’ scorn was acid in her voice ‘—just to save your skin.’
Her father gave a derisive, mocking laugh. ‘Little Miss Pure and Virtuous? Is that it? Well, you can be as bloody pure and virtuous as you like when you and your senile old bat of a grandmother are out on the streets! Because I promise you—’ his voice congealed the breath in her lungs as he spoke ‘—if you don’t play ball and make sure Leon Maranz gets everything he wants from you, I’ll rip Harford from you. It’ll be on the market this week. So what’s it to be? It’s make your mind up time.’
Slowly, very slowly, Flavia looked at the documents lying on her grandfather’s desk. Saw the zeroes blur, and then reform. Felt acid leach into her stomach, cold inch down her spine.
Slowly, very slowly, she gave him her answer.
The team of project directors seated around the table were setting out their next round of
pro bono
proposals for funding. Leon knew he should be paying more attention, but his mind was distracted. Focussed elsewhere.
It had been for days now. Focussed on the mobile phone in his jacket pocket. Whenever it rang he was aware of a distinct jolt of expectation and hope. Would it finally, this time, be Flavia Lassiter returning his calls?
But it never was.
He’d hoped that leaving London would stop him being constantly on the alert for her, but here he was on the pointof heading back east across the Atlantic and he was just as frustrated by her silence as ever. He’d tried accepting that she just didn’t want to know, tried putting her out of his mind, even tried looking out for another woman to take his mind off Flavia Lassiter.
But even the famed beauty of South American womanhood had failed to beguile him. The more he’d tried to be beguiled, the less he had been. The more he’d kept seeing Flavia in his mind’s eye, feeling her lips beneath his in his memory, the pliant softness of her body in his embrace …
It was infuriating. It was exasperating. It was unnerving.
I’m becoming obsessed …
The unwelcome notion played in his head, disturbing and disquieting. He tried to rationalise it away, reminding himself that up till now he’d never had to face female rejection—that was why he was reacting so badly to Flavia doing it. But he could rationalise it all he wanted—what he couldn’t do was expunge her from his memory or cease to want her.
They’d reached the end of the proposals, and he realised he must make
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